


Love Sick

by dametokillfor



Category: Avenged Sevenfold/Papa Roach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-05
Updated: 2008-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dametokillfor/pseuds/dametokillfor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>And he definitely doesn’t hear the soft “I love you.” being whispered against his skin.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He slinks back into the house once more, his sickness weighing him down like a lead weight. The intangible sickness that no-one can see but him, no-one can feel but him and the one he shares it with. The man walks through the large halls of his house, a reminder of the wealth he’s accumulated with good, healthy people. They don’t know how ill he is, how damaged his body and his mind is becoming. To them, he’s just the bright, carefree guitarist, not a care in the world. On the inside, it’s a very different story.

The man ascends the large, dark wood staircase, heading for the large, grand room where his beautiful girlfriend is no doubt waiting for him, a thousand questions on her lips.

 _Where were you Brian?_

 _What’s that I can smell, Brian?_

 _Why can’t you be straight with me, Brian?_

The last of the questions would make him laugh if he felt he had any sense of humour left. Instead he just reels off another perfectly convincing string of lies, one which the woman who lies with him falls for every time. He doesn’t know if she actually believes him or if she’s just too afraid of losing the comfortable lie she has to dispute him.

He pushes the large wooden door open, his hand moving over the ornate designs carved there as he enters the room. There’s already an apology fully formed in his mind, one he’d been creating while indulging in his sickness.

He lifts his head, tired brown eyes opening to look at the woman who is no doubt laid in the bed. He blinks a few times when he sees nothing before him, nothing but an empty, impeccably made bed. Brian approaches the bed, only now seeing the stark white paper standing out against the deep purple sheets. A single word decorates the card.

 _Sorry x_

Tan fingers drop the bright white card to the wooden floor where it lands silently, sliding under the small table at the side of the bed. The man sits back on the bed, wiping over his face with his hands.

The revelation that she’s gone hurts him more than he’d expected it to. While he doesn’t love her, he does still care for her. She’s a sweet woman, a caring woman, a patient woman. She’s always been there for him. She keeps the sickness in him from taking him over and destroying him. As he reels off the reasons he’s going to miss her in his head, he realizes how truly selfish he is. It isn’t her that he’ll miss, it’s the way she keeps his dark side in check. He just hopes she’ll find someone else who’ll be able to treat her like the princess she is.

Brian’s hand moves to his hip where he can feel his cell pressing against him. He takes the phone out and scrolls through the numbers, fingers instinctively drawing him to the S’s.

 _Shaddix, Jacoby_

He wants so badly to press the call button that his thumb is caressing. He wants to call the one he shares this sickness with, to get some kind, any kind of comfort from the other man.

His eyes fall shut. The dark, abandoned room he inhabits is replaced by the small, sleazy motel room he was in not an hour ago. The rich, purple paint is replaced by the peeling, textured fleur de lys wallpaper. The plush bed he lies on is the cheap, lumpy mattress once more. The inside of his eyelids are replaced by those bright, eager ocean blue eyes, that infectious smile.

“Coby…”

He wants to kiss the memory, he wants to touch the memory but he knows it’ll just destroy him even more. The memory’s the reason he’s alone now, the reason he’s lost his security.

Brian opens his eyes once more and finds himself staring down at the outgoing call screen on the phone. The timer shows the call’s been going on for 3 minute already.

 _“Brian? Brian, dude, you okay?”_

He wants to scream down the phone, just to yell at the older man.

 _I’m not okay! She’s gone! I have no-one left to control this disgusting, sick monster that I’ve become! It’s all your fucking fault! You made me this way!_

But Brian doesn’t have the conviction, he doesn’t have the energy to follow up the argument. He just wants to get rid of the other man and lie in the empty bed, dreaming of a time when things were so much less complicated. He wants to go back to when he was living the dream without this disease eating away at him. Back to when he was all about the girls, the drugs, the drink and the rock and roll. Back to when he was _normal_.

He brings the phone to his ear with a half smile, he knows the other man can’t see it but it makes him feel more confident in his lie.

“Fine, Cobes, just… I sat on the phone, you know how it is. Fucking locks on these things never work.”

The other end of the phone is silent, no words coming from the other Californian for the longest time.

 _“Okay.”_ The other voice says, rightly unconvinced, _“Just… take it easy, alright?”_

Brian nods as the other man disconnects. His ‘I love you’ is whispered to the harsh dial tone. He holds the phone to his ear for a moment longer, half hoping to hear the other mans voice cut through the monotonous buzz telling him the same thing. He presses the ‘end call’ button on his phone and allows it to fall to his side.

He lies back on the bed, eyes flicking to the large iron clock hanging from the feature wall in the room. It’s barely 10 but he doesn’t feel he can stay up much longer. He needs to escape the waking world, drift into the land of the dead for a few hours. He knows the world isn’t going to be any better after his brief sojourn but the idea of hours of blackness appeal to him more now than ever. He’s never been suicidal but he could understand the reasoning behind it now.

His eyes fall shut as he drifts into a heavy dreamless sleep.

He doesn’t hear the door opening.

He doesn’t hear his name being called through the house.

He doesn’t hear the footsteps coming up the stairs.

He doesn’t feel the inked arms wrapping around his body or the sweet kisses to his neck.

And he definitely doesn’t hear the soft “I love you.” being whispered against his skin.


	2. Love Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prequel to [Love Sick](http://myficcywic.livejournal.com/5706.html). _As Brian returns the kiss as desperately as he gives it, he knows this isn’t the case. He can’t live without Jacoby and the feeling is **agonizingly** mutual._

He watches as the door to the small dank motel room opens and his sin walks through, face emotionless as ever. The man on the bed tries not to make it obvious how long he’s been waiting for this, placing the shredded menu upon the small bedside cabinet. The weeks they’ve spent trying to fight whatever it is here have all but killed him. When he’d sent the message to his partner, the three numbers symbolizing the room he would be waiting in, he’d almost expected him not to come. He thought he’d have been sat on the mattress all night, staring at the Chinese takeout menu, memorizing the numbers by heart to stop himself from going _insane_.

As the door opened, his heart had almost stopped. It had been almost three hours since he’d sent the message and sitting in the ironically numbered room 183, Jacoby had almost resigned himself to the fact that his dream was finally over. He’d go back to the life he loved yet still resented, his heart only functioning to move the blood through his body.

But then Brian came.

No words are exchanged as Jacoby rises from the bed, approaching the man who holds his life in the palm of his hands without even knowing it. His arms wrap around the younger man, their lips connecting almost instantly. He’s almost scared that the other man is going to push him away, to tell him that he’s come to finish it, that he can’t do this anymore.

As Brian returns the kiss as desperately as he gives it, he knows this isn’t the case. He can’t live without Jacoby and the feeling is _agonizingly_ mutual.

They move back towards the bed, the only real furniture in the room, the only furniture which matters in any way. The kiss never breaks as Jacoby pulls his lover down onto the bed with him, the younger man always above him, always having to be in control of what’s happening with them.

They’d never expected things to be this way when they’d first started out. One swift hand job wasn’t supposed to lead to the most painful yet intense feelings either of them had ever been involved in. It was supposed to relieve stress, not turn them both into this almost symbiotic creature that they are now.

The kiss breaks now, the guitarists lips moving from his lover’s mouth over the rest of him, across the jaw, down the neck, barely breaking contact for a second. His skilled hands are pushing the shirt up, revealing sun kissed, inked skin. It almost tastes like the honey it so resembles.

Brian pulls back only to strip the shirt from his lover, before his lips are back upon his body. Jacoby’s body arches into his as the talented tongue flicks across a hard nipple, the only one who’s ever elicited any response from this action. His inked hands take the other man’s spiky hair, pulling him back to him for another kiss. He’s craved this for so long now, felt physically weak without it.

The blue eyed man begins removing his lover’s clothing now, the black dress shirt being unbuttoned carefully, no matter how much he wants to just tear it from him. His lover helps now, shrugging the shirt free, throwing it aside before both move to work at troublesome pants.

Buttons pop, zips get caught, both men curse in frustration, the first words they’ve said to one another all night. Once Jacoby has shed his lower garments, he stops his lover’s actions for a moment, just taking a second to look at him again.

He gazes deep into the chocolate brown eyes which reflect back his very soul, tracing the sharp cheekbones with a thumb.

“Hi.” He says, reaching to press a light kiss to thin, sweet lips.

Brian smiles down at him, “Hi.”

His own pants and boxer briefs follow the same route as Jacoby’s landing on the floor in the corner of the room. He turns his full attention back to the gorgeous creature beneath him. They begin kissing slowly again, no need to rush, not now they know this is real again.

They move so they’re laid side by side, hands leisurely exploring the others body, touching, teasing, sending the other to the edge before bringing them back down again. It’s the kind of luxury they can rarely afford themselves, their usual encounters governed by the length of time they can hide away in a tour bus or how long it will take for their partner to return home.

Their actions escalate slowly to fever pitch and Jacoby nearly can’t take it anymore, his voice whimpering out, “I need you now.”

His lover draws back from his attack on his neck and looks to him, shaking his head, “No.”

Jacoby glares at his lover, almost pouting, “No?”

The dark eyed man shakes his head, “I want you to take me.”

Jacoby mimics his partners action, “No, no.”

He takes his lovers face in his hands, “She’ll know, Brian, I can’t let her know.”

“I don’t care.” He says, “I need it, I need it so much, Cobes, please…”

Jacoby just stares at him for a moment, the desperation in those soulful eyes, the confusion, the pain. If he can make it go, just for a moment, he’ll do whatever it takes. He nods, hoping he won’t regret his acquiescence later.

“Okay.” He drops a kiss on soft lips, “Okay.”

The guitarist reaches for the supplies which were left out on the nightstand, looking to Jacoby, “You expected to get lucky tonight, I see?”

A small laugh escapes the older man, the first genuine one since their last night together, “Well if you hadn’t turned up, I was going to practice my balloon animals.”

Brian chuckles at this, “That I would have liked to see.”

He tears the package open, pulling the slippery O from the plastic. He’s wished so often than they didn’t need this, that he could just feel his lover skin to skin but his logic overpowers his lust. If anything should get passed, anything get given to their partners, that would be the end. Their relationship only survives because of it’s secretive nature. The real world would tear them apart.

Slender fingers roll the sheath across his shaft and Jacoby’s mind is torn away from the terrifying thoughts of the real world and back into this blissful paradise. Brian slicks him up, wiping his hand on the motel sheets. He lays out on his back, waiting for his lover to move over him.

Jacoby’s hand rests on the younger man’s stomach for a moment, whispering soft promises into his ear.

 _I will never let you go._

I will never hurt you.

You’re my heart.

I need you.

I love you.

Brian takes these words in, a smile on his face. They only mean something when they come from him, from the man he _knows_ is his other half, the man he _knows_ he should be with til the end of his life, the man he _knows_ he can never be with for real.

His eyes fall closed, he’s not about to cry but God, they sound so right he feels that he could.

He feels light kisses being pressed to his eyelids and a finger being moved inside him. His eyes open again to see Jacoby almost nose to nose with him, smiling sadly down on him. Brian knows that the older man is thinking the same as he is. How anything this right could be so wrong to everyone else, how these moments are the only ones they’ll ever truly have together.

Jacoby kisses the man, trying to distract him from these thoughts as a second digit works inside him, scissoring carefully. He hurts him enough being away from him, he can’t do the same now he’s with him.

A small whimper falls from the lips of the guitarist, a soft cry of his lover’s name, “Want you now.”

Jacoby smiles. He lightly taps the small bundle of nerves in Brian that he has been aching to touch. He wants to see how beautiful his lover is in the throes of that rare pleasure.

A stream of delicious, sinful words fall from Brian’s tongue, his back arching, hands gripping Jacoby’s shoulder’s. His eyes stay open throughout, the dark brown being replaced by a lustful almost black.

Brian looks to the teasing man, “Now. Please…”

Jacoby knows he can’t deny him now, not with how beautiful he looks begging like this. He slicks the lube over himself once more before lining up with his partners puckered entrance. He moves in at an almost agonizing pace, groaning as he feels the tight constricting heat. He doesn’t know the last time Brian was taken, he doesn’t want to hurt the man just to slake his own lust.

He can feel Brian’s heat drawing him in, Brian’s sounds are made not of pain, more of desperation.

“Coby, please…” He almost whispers, voice low and quick.

The older man complies with the plea, moving swiftly and smoothly into his lover, filling him completely. He pauses, taking a moment to adjust to the intense feeling of Brian enveloping him.

This feels right, so _goddamn_ right.

He slowly begins thrusting in his lover, trying to find the spot which made Brian look so damn stunning to him earlier. Brian’s nails are digging into his back and Jacoby knows he should hate this because it’s physical evidence but he doesn’t _fuckin’ care_.

He moves once more into his partner and suddenly the small noises he’s been making are replaced by an utterly stunning, utterly erotic low moan of sheer pleasure. The nails dig deeper into his back, raking along the soft brown skin. Everything in Jacoby’s body is set ablaze with the sound of this coming from his lover and this feeling. He knows his end is close.

“Brian…” He warns, wrapping one hand around Brian’s cock, wanting to bring them to their release together.

“Me too.” Brian says, breathlessly.

Jacoby drives into his spot one final time, feeling Brian contracting around him sending him over the edge. The brown eyed man isn’t far behind and their climaxes are both reached with a loud cry of the others name, the way it’s always been. There’s never this kind of intense release with anyone else, it’s the physical, solely the physical. With Brian, Jacoby’s whole being just feels utterly sated. He withdraws from Brian now, wishing he didn’t have to, wishing he could just stay connected physically the same way as he is mentally, emotionally, spiritually with this man.

Jacoby falls to the bed, half sprawled across his lover as he regains his breath. Neither moves nor speaks for the longest moment. Before Brian breaks the bliss with the words Jacoby dreads hearing.

“I need to go.” He says.

Jacoby looks up to him, eyes pleading with his lover not to leave, the words sticking on his tongue. He knows he needs to leave. He knows they can’t just stay here in this blissful aftermath.

He nods, “I know.”

Brian slides out from underneath him now, crossing the room to the small bathroom. He never showers after their encounters, just cleans off as best he can, saving the showers for his return home. Jacoby knows it’s because they’d simply end up making love in there as well also and the entire thing would be an exercise in futility.

He watches as the door closes again before laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He can’t leave, he’s not physically able to do so right now. He’s stuck in this spot, is stuck here until Brian leaves him. He needs to spend as much time with the other man as he can, regardless of how much these moments kill him.

After a long few minutes, Brian emerges, dressed, from the small bathroom. He stands awkwardly in the room, Jacoby still lays on the bed, barely looking at him.

“I lo-” Brian starts before his mouth closes again and he looks to his feet, “You know.”

Jacoby nods sadly. He knows.

“I know.” He clarifies.

Brian wrings his hands, looking nervous, the only time Jacoby has ever seen Brian look nervous has been when he’s been about to leave.

“Yeah.” Brian says again before heading for the door, pulling it open. He pauses for a moment, not looking back, just standing there before making his final exit.

Jacoby stays laid on the bed for the longest time after he leaves, his head hurting from the sheer emotional agony he’s been forced through.

It’s only as his phone begins to ring, the camp classic Brian seemed to think would be hilarious as his personal tone sounding through the room, that Jacoby moves.

Moments later, he’s dressed and driving too fuckin’ fast, to relieve the agony he heard, finally ready to tell the world to fuck itself.


End file.
